


I'll Tell You a Tail

by musicmillennia



Series: The Unusuals [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Porthos just wanted to walk on the beach, shameless flirting, you can't stop my title puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That awkward moment when a merman gets swept up in a wave and lands on top of you, then thinks it's a good idea to start flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Tell You a Tail

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone about...twenty minutes ago? My meds haven't kicked in yet, so I am feeling just apathetic enough to not care whether I post this or not.
> 
> Blame the Davy Jones song and late night AU-envisioning. Because that is what I do when I wait for sleep: I give these fuckers fins and build them an underwater world.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

It's the perfect day for a walk on the beach: freezing, stormy, and not another person in sight.

Around his friends, Porthos is the one who laughs the loudest, who breaks the ice quicker than anyone else. Admittedly though, he liked being alone. Living in a cramped orphanage for most of his childhood made it necessary for solitary hours. Alone with only his thoughts on the sea is always so...nice? Liberating. Yeah, that was it: liberating.

So he walks, occasionally humming a little tune, and feels utterly free and at peace. The ocean is freezing as it laps at his feet, but he doesn't mind; if anything, the icy darts attacking his skin is another reminder of his solitude, since nobody's around to suggest they walk a little farther up the beach or go inside.

He's just turned to face the ocean in order to watch the dark clouds on the horizon when it happens. The waves are already rough, but suddenly they get very chaotic  _very_ fast. Bigger and bigger they soar, until--one crashes right on Porthos.

Pain rips up his back and on his elbows as they catch his fall against the hardened sand, and obviously that's not the funny thing about this. What  _is_ funny is the weight of the wave fails to retreat with the water.

"Oh! Why hel _lo_ there."

The voice, unexpected though it is, has a smooth timbre with an undertone of a melodic lilt. Porthos blinks furiously against the salt water in his eyes so he can see the source.

Dark hair, smiling brown eyes, and lips to die for. In other words, yes, as hot as he sounds.

The gorgeous man has his hands braced on Porthos' chest, where he had unceremoniously landed with the wave. Porthos wonders why this pretty lunatic had been swimming in these tides for all of two seconds before the even stranger sensation on his legs registers: not skin, but something a little more grating, like...like...

Porthos lifts his head to look; his mouth drops open. "What the..."

The man--with a fish tail like stained glass paint threw up on all over it, a FISH TAIL--puts his cheek in one hand, the other tracing circles on Porthos' chest with an index finger.

"Lovely day, is it not?" he asks, completely unaffected by the fact that he isn't supposed to exist. "Perfect for getting... _swept away_ by things."

It's not even a good line but it works anyway; Porthos' body shivers. The man--the  _merman_ \--smirks playfully at his reaction.

"Such a good thing you were here," he sighs, sounding like a damn maiden from a book, "Tell me, did you have to work at these muscles or were you just naturally gifted?"

This stunning fantasy creature is flirting with him. Maybe that wave knocked him about harder than he'd thought.

"Bit o' both, actually," he manages to reply, because why not interact with a head injury-induced hallucination?

He's rewarded by the creature purring, "Is that so? Well,  _you_ can call me Aramis."

Even the name sounds like a dream. Porthos clears his throat and tells Aramis his name in return. Aramis tests it on his tongue, still tracing circles on Porthos' chest.

" _Por_ thos," he murmurs, and fuck if he doesn't make it sound like a come-on itself, "Por _thos_.  _Porthos_. I like it."

 _I like the way you say it,_ Porthos doesn't say. "This the part where you ask for my number?" is what he does say. He's not sure which is worse.

Aramis blinks twice before, thankfully, throwing his head up to the sky and laughing. The motion exposes the wet, pale column of his throat--look away Porthos, look away. Mama didn't raise a pig.

"Dear Porthos," Aramis chortles, a throaty sound that's a direct contrast to his bright laughter, "whatever would I do with your phone number? I live in the ocean."

Oh yeah. Obviously. Merfolk, fish tails, ocean. Porthos figures he should probably ice his head later.

"But..." Aramis drags out the "u" in a sing-song voice that turns Porthos' limbs to jelly. "If you were so inclined, I may or may not be at the base of Musket Cliff at noon tomorrow."

Musket Cliff--where the lighthouse is, and the place where on of the first musket battles in France took place (hence the name). It's treacherous terrain, with sharp, jagged rocks and a one-way drop to death if you aren't careful.

Porthos goes there all the time. Not at noon, though. He always climbs over there at sunset or sunrise. All that time watching the spectacle of nature and he'd missed actual pretty mermen.

Or his cracked skull is bleeding all over the sand.

"Okay."

Aramis smiles, showing a row of shark teeth. "Wonderful." Then he gives a loud whistle over his shoulder and another wave comes hurtling towards them. "Until then, _Porthos_."

By the time Porthos finishes coughing and spluttering in the wake of this wave, Aramis' weight is gone.

"Yeah," he croaks, "'til then."

"Hey!"

Porthos starts at the new voice. He rolls onto his side, only to gape once more at another merman a little ways from the water, flapping his burgundy tail uselessly against the sand. Unlike Aramis, his skin is a little darker, with longer hair. He looks younger too, and definitely frustrated.

"If you're done flirting, could you be so kind?" he says, gesturing to his useless tail.

"Ehm, yeah, sure," Porthos grunts, pushing himself back to his feet. The young merman reaches for him, decidedly flustered by having to resort to asking to be carried back to the ocean.

"Thank you," he says as Porthos hefts him over his shoulder. "Just a little less than knee-deep is fine--yes."

Porthos drops him into the water, hearing a sigh of relief as the burgundy scales sink below the surface, quickly becoming a vague shape amidst the tossing sand.

"He is actually going to be there, by the way," the merman says. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but he's been watching you on those rocks for weeks."

That should freak Porthos out. That should really, really freak him out. Why isn't that making him freak out?

"He wanna drag me under and drown me, or should I bring flowers?"

The merman grins, showing the same kind of teeth as Aramis. "Bring an iPod. He loves music."

"Thanks."

"Well, you did help me. Just reward and all that. Goodbye!" And just like that, the merman vanishes into the sea.

It's only after Porthos is standing on dryer sand and reeling from this whole experience that he realizes there's something clinking against his St. Jude pendant.

It's a lovely gold crucifix. How did Aramis slip that on him?

Porthos finds himself grinning all the way home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will let you in on a little secret: I would have put tentacles on Aramis instead, but his voice practically exploded in my head with so many innuendos I gave him a stained glass-colored tail instead as punishment.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
